Obelius scanned the clearing through the remnants of his conjured storm. The battlefield had quickly turned into a quagmire of mud, trampled grass, and blood. From his observation post atop Cire’s summoned keep he could assess that his Tempest spell at the start of the engagement had given them the initiative. Worryingly, the gnolls hadn’t broken or become disorganized in the maelstrom, they had solidified.

Circles of ten to twenty gnolls a piece spread across the clearing bunched into tight formations. The canine warrior’s longer reach, and penchant for weapons that matched, fit their strategy perfectly. Multiple skirmishes had broken out up and down the treeline where the gnoll formations pushed into the elven forces.

Muttering under his breath, Obelius dropped a couple of choice curses and looked over the others who had joined him atop the battlements. Iaso was busy casting various support spells on those within range, hastening their steps with the swiftness of wind or buffering them with shields in opportune moments. The moon elf caster showed his true value as he imbued ready arrows with blessings of wind causing them to fly faster and further. Several archers had joined them, one of Calix’s retainers and two from the guard that he did not know the names of.

Preparing a spell to continue disrupting the terrain and slow the gnoll’s advance, Obelius began to chant and wave his staff in the air. A roaring lance of flames struck the top of the keep and licked at the ranged combatants forcing them to duck behind the crenels. With his spell interrupted the wizard staggered with mana backlash, but was able to keep to his feet.

“Distract their casters! We need to maintain the high ground or we are done for!”

Without leaving cover, Obelius reached into a bottomless satchel on his belt and took out a weathered scroll case. The instructor was a veteran of many conflicts, as an adventurer in his youth, member of the royal guard as an adult, and finally as an officer in the cities army. He knew when a clash was about to turn pear shaped, and the first moments of this conflict screamed at his well honed senses. No one had prepared for the gnolls to have magic users in their ranks.

Screams and smoke rose up from under the keep. Several trees near them caught fire as he scrambled with the stopper holding the scroll tube closed and unfurled the delicate piece of paper. Obelius placed it on the cold black stone of the keeps roof and pressed his palm into the complex patterns crafted in magical ink. Closing his eyes he began to channel his mana into the item to activate its magic.

A green and yellow orb struck the head of one of the archers at his side. The unstable magic burst and flooded the rooftop in a quickly spreading sickly stinking miasma. Wracking coughs sprung from Obelius’ lips as spit sprayed, but he kept his hand pressed and his mana flow focused. The archer collapsed at his side, but he couldn’t spare a moment to look and assess the elf’s condition.

On the far side of the keep, Calix and several others were being pushed back into the forest. Their defensive line lost positioning and exposed the flanks of the fighters on the edge. Elias, the glade elf, had taken the hammer end of poleaxe to the head and was insensate on the ground. Chloe, a wood elf in full plate armed with a great sword, defended him by cutting at the shafts of the long weapons wielded by the gnolls. She had already managed to take the heads off two spears and a pike, but the hedgehog style attack of her enemies continued to press.

Nimbly weaving her way through several attacks, Eliana burst into the canines ranks. Her whole body blurred and six illusory copies surrounded her as she dashed in between the gnolls. Flashing with a shroud of blue-white light, Eliana’s razor sharp saber slashed and parried rapidly. With each strike splintering shocks of lighting spread between her foes. She turned aside all attacks and her impressive display provided more than sufficient distraction for the elven force to re-group.

On the other side of the keep the lines held in an uneasy stalemate. The gnolls would surge forward pushing Lander and Philip deep into the trees. Members of the guard would hit back with skirmishing strikes to take ground. Many lacking plate, the forest warriors were outfitted for ease of movement in thick brush, the guards couldn’t directly square off with such a massive host.

Fizz whistled a shrill short call and his throwing daggers disappeared from the gnolls flesh they were embedded in and reappeared in the sheaths at his hips. Ducking into a thick clump of leaves, he hid for a moment to allay attention. Fizz couldn’t reposition himself easily and he couldn’t afford to be caught, caution would be his watch word for the day.

The gnome had barely been able to keep the gnolls from circling around Dimitra and attacking Cire when he had gone down. Running his fingers over the potions Cire had given him, he considered using the pivotal tools, but his hand went to his daggers hilts again. In this chaos, keeping a few tricks in reserve would prove wise in his estimation. Emerging from his cover, spinning blades flew from his nimble fingers and found bloody purchase once again.

Showers of multi-colored sparkles sprayed along the line as Honey buzzed all of the gnolls she could in a mad dash. The fairy looped and spun between gnoll, elf, and weapons alike. As she rounded a tree near the end of the line she pulled herself up short. Knowing the curious elf with golden hair, a ready smile, and friendly demeanor was a vampire was one thing, seeing it, was another.

It was his eyes, there was a near lunatic sheen to them and they were beyond bloodshot. His mismatched pair of purple and blue irises stood out all the more surrounded by the crimson backdrop. Those orbs drew her focus until she saw glints of light from his fangs and claws. He was panting and looked to be readying himself. That’s when Honeydrop was truly surprised.

Going through the physical changes of his enraged form was never pleasant, but with healing potions swimming in his system Cire barely noticed the pain. He was too focused. The crown induced a state of unnatural calm and objectivity when his system was flooded with so much stimuli. However, the vampiric rage lowered his intellect and critical thinking regardless of being consciously in control of his actions.

Taking a steadying breath, Cire felt like ages had passed during his transformation. He knew that it had only been moments, but details of the plan he had come up with before changing had already begun to elude him. He ticked off the major elements of his plan that remained in his head as he readied himself by dropping his remaining ability points into his Regeneration ability. Cire was fully aware that this was the second time he was increasing the ability mid-battle and thanked Eugene for the long ago advice to save points for critical circumstances.

I took the potions and activated the Blood Rage. Now I need to hit as hard as possible. Don’t get too far from the line. Stay moving. Disrupt as much of the battlefield as I can.

Flexing his sword hand, he looked over the curved deadly talons that had erupted to replace his fingernails. During his enraged state he had never been able to truly examine them, that was until Eliana had pushed him into sparring in the form. A quick look confirmed what Cire already knew. In close quarters the ability granted him weapons he couldn’t hope to purchase.

Talons of the Apex Hunter

Attack: 4d6 (Slicing or Piercing)

Rarity: Divine

Quality: Masterpiece

Effects:

1. +1 to hit for every 10 levels of the vampire.

2. +1 to damage per die for every 10 levels of the vampire.

3. Venom Coated — 1d6 poison damage per turn for 3 turns once inflicted per every 10 levels of the vampire.

4. Counts as a magical weapon. Inherent – cannot be removed or transferred. Ignores all proficiency requirements for use.

5. ???

The claws possessed one major flaw though – lack of reach. Against the gnolls, on open ground, that would be a death sentence. Perhaps there was a way to have the best of both worlds.

Without the crown it would have taken him months, if not years, of meditation to develop enough mental resistance for clear thought while his mind was assaulted. Cire’s training with Eliana had pushed him in many ways. Forcing him to explore various aspects of his abilities, even if he had not fully realized them, was only part of her guidance.

With an effort and concentration Cire willed the claws to retract on one of his hands. It felt unnatural in his current state, yet he persisted. Once each of the deadly hooked and hardened nails was pulled back, a wicked smile crossed his face. Fang points shown easily over his curling lips and hearkened violence almost as much as the softly glowing sword he drew from its sheath.

Preparations made, Cire bolted from his position. Speed and dexterity boosted well beyond his standard through the combination of the Blood Rage and the potion of Naga’s Quickness propelled his steps rapidly. Cire had been training with increased movement abilities for months, while it hadn’t been continuous, he had strung more than a few Flash Steps together at a time. This meant he only suffered a few jerky steps and managed to avoid tripping over himself as he acclimated.

“On your right!”

Cire yelled as he moved next to Dimitra and engaged one of the many foes trying to skewer her. For a moment they worked in tandem, his excessive speed and acrobatic movements dancing around the outskirts of her wild swings. They effectively beat back the closest schiltron style gnoll formation by snapping spear hafts and cutting off tips. A gap formed in the gnoll line.

Cire jumped, quite literally, at the presented opportunity. Propelled by a Flash Step with each foot he whipped into the center of the canines as a whirling dervish of death. Every piece of exposed flesh he saw within reach was sliced and ripped. He parried incoming strikes with his sword and pivoted to slash with his talons. Ducking under the clumsy bite of a yellow spotted gnoll, he spun to give himself an area to maneuver.

Covered with dangling beads and colorful strings woven through its fur, a hulking feral beast of a gnoll stomped towards Cire. Spit flew as angry barking growls escaped gnashing teeth. Twisting in its grip, the handle of an over sized mace rotated as the gnoll attacked from an unexpected angle.

In the midst of battle, with his mind clear, but with his critical thought hampered Cire acted on training and instinct. He didn’t block the weapon moving with crashing momentum or parry, he rolled under the attack and raked his claws across the uncovered calves of his foe. Springing upwards his sword lashed out, empowered by the mana of a Surging Strike, and took the beasts head from its shoulders.

Blood sprayed over his body, stink filled his nostrils, and the cacophony of battle rang through his Cire’s ears. He could taste the chaos on the wind. None of it shook him from his purpose. A sting spread across his back and a searing pain pierced his thigh. He pressed through with faith in his newly increased self healing.

Cire burst out of the other side of the pack of gnolls and ran across open ground towards the next. He left the gnoll formation disorganized and in tatters. Towards the center of the open grass and mud, a knot of tightly packed canines guarded a group of four. These gnolls wore robes, held twisted wooden staffs, and were howling madly against the dying wind of Obelius’ storm.

Surges of anger, distinct and separate from the natural bloodlust of his predatory vampire form, bucked at the restraints in his mind. As he ran in a zig zag pattern in the open field he saw two more large gnolls step out from the pack in the middle. Swirled paint markings and black-red feathers threaded in their fur appeared the same as the leader of the raid on Sunset.

Cire closed in on the two beasts that dwarfed his last opponent. Even with his dulled state of mind he knew that interrupting the gnoll casters was critical. It wouldn’t do any good to charge in, that’s why he had trained.

Easily out pacing the gnolls, even with their larger size, Cire looped around the outside of the center pack. This began to accomplish his goal of drawing the two large attackers towards him along with the eyes of the casters. He was the first of the elven forces to reach them and he was not what they expected from the woodland host.

The howls of the gnoll shamans began to crescendo, their haunting rhythm increasing in pace. Cire pivoted and dug the side of his foot into the ground to arrest his momentum and turned towards his pursuers. One had a massive great sword and the other wielded a two handed hafted blade that Cire had no name for. Neither was a good option, so he angled himself towards the one that was slightly ahead.

No time to second guess, Cire channeled mana through the soles of his feetand picked up speed. He didn’t count the number of steps, he needed every bit of advantage that he could in this moment. A feint of his sword drew out an attack from the great sword wielder and Cire leapt.

The tip of his sword ran the length of the gnoll’s sword weakly as he ascended but kept it at bay. The wide eyes of the gnoll bulged as Cire planted a foot into its chest. The vampires next step was placed roughly into the gnolls shoulder and a burst of mana threw the canine down. Cire was propelled through the air as he rolled into a corkscrew flip arcing over the defenders before him.

Without his enhancements and practice bouncing around a sparring room he would have never pulled it off. As it was, he got tagged by one of the two gnolls during his jump on his side. Cire landed in a roll to disperse his momentum and came popping up right before the casters. His appearance alone shattered the concentration of at least one. The cleaving strike of his sword broke the focus of another as she was forced to block. Changing the direction of his staff, the shaman furthest from the vampire shifted his target instead of getting distracted.

Realization shown in Cire’s eyes as he made eye contact with the gnoll who was pointing a staff at him. The time limit on his gambit was up, he needed to get out. Cire turned to run as the casters defenders closed around him and the shaman had him in his sights. There was a short moment where everyone seemed to slow down around him. He saw a gap in the line as two gnolls bounced off each other as they rushed him.

Right as Cire was throwing himself at the gap, the ground rolled and bucked under his feet. His Flash Step propelled him at an angle and he went down in a tumbling heap. The earthquake didn’t stop after an initial shake, it continued and grew in strength. Gnolls fell around him and were tossed around in the mud. The clouded sunlight was blocked out further as a towering earth elemental, no it was something more, pulled itself from the soil and formed in the center of the meadow.

Soil, stones, grass, bushes, and even a few small trees had amalgamated into a humanoid form that was easily three to four stories tall. With a ponderous sweep of its arm it tossed a group of gnolls who had risen flying in scattered directions. It turned and repeated the motion with its other arm.

Cire squirmed on the ground to avoid a gnoll’s swinging axe that sunk into the dirt next to him. He needed to get up, he needed to move. Reaching up with his clawed hand, Cire sunk his talons into the gnoll who had just struck. Yanking himself to stand, he shredded the beasts arm into strips of sinew.

A heavy blow from a war hammer crashed into Cire’s shoulder and pushed him back. He managed to stay on his feet, which was all he needed. Hurdling over downed gnolls and thrust weapons, Cire broke free of the scrum and onto open ground. A thundering jolt as the elemental stepped forward and crushed several gnolls under foot tested his Cire’s own footing. With room to maneuver the flexible vampire was having a better time navigating the altered terrain than most.

While running Cire could feel the power fueling his enhanced movements waning. Whipping his head around he tried to figure out where he was in relation to the elven lines, the massive elemental, and the closest gnoll formations. Cire was stuck much closer to the far treeline than he had expected after being tossed about. The way he saw it he had two options, try and make it back across the unpredictable field of battle or take his chances in the unknown woods, either way he was isolated.

I’ll be to vulnerable if I try and Bite a gnoll to increase the length of the rage. I should have done that before now. No second guessing during a fight Cire, find cover.

Twisting towards the trees, Cire poured on every bit of speed and agility he could muster. Dodging out of the way of a charging gnoll and vaulting over a smaller gnoll who was dragging an injured warrior on the ground put him only a few strides from concealment.

An arrow thudded into Cire’s shoulder causing his grip to falter on his sword. Tumbling from his hand, the sharp metal fell to the ground. He didn’t waste time on looking back, or even double clutching towards his sword, he dove into the brush and behind the first trunks he could find. Several more arrows whizzed past him or thunked into the bark at his passing.

Pulling up behind a tree deeper into the woods, Cire poked his head around and looked to see how many were in pursuit. Too many, he couldn’t count them all before he yanked his head back and started pressing on.

Why? Sure, I was pretty damn showy, but the gnolls were demonstrating impressive discipline before my escapade. Why would they be chasing me like this?

Cire felt the Blood Rage slip, the bound fury wailing in his mind began to grow fainter as if buffeted by wind, less distinct. He needed the power or he was going to get caught. Running straight through a bramble bush he let the thorns rip into his skin and the tattered remains of his clothes. Blood ran across his skin as his dulled mind scrambled for options.

Grasping for more, his tireless rapid pace began to take its toll and he stumbled over a root. While getting his feet fully back underneath himself he felt the strength ebb from his form completely. A weariness began to settle into his muscles as the fog in his mind began to lift.

Cire had faced a similar challenge before, if not in form then in function. During his first night on this world he had to endure to survive harsh conditions. Hell, he hadn’t entirely survived for that matter. An aspect integral to who he was had been revealed in the wake of that event, one he had yet to truly utilize, having never had a need.

Reaching inside of himself Cire summoned the force surging through his blood to return. He had never actually triggered an ability reset through his Indefatigable aspect previously. Cire had never been a reason to turn into a bat more than once per day and the only other ability with a cooldown was the rage. There was an instinctual nature to it, not the same as manipulating mana, but something similar. Cire felt an odd sensation rush through him, at first a wave of nausea bubbled from his stomach, but it was gone quickly and replaced with a bright-eyed refreshed feeling.

Before Cire’s claws could fully retract or his fangs could retreat he willed the rage to activate once again. Hammering heartbeats shuddered through his body and it felt like molten lava was flowing through his veins. The searing pain abated as his regeneration went to work. Cire didn’t know what had entirely happened, but he could tell his distracted steps had yielded ground to his pursuers. Barks and yips closed on his position as they echoed through the trees.

Deep enough into the forest to correct his course, Cire made to circle around the outside of the meadow and rejoin friendly territory. Arrows continued to fly past him on either side, but his ability to weave in and out of cover prevented any more from hitting him. Cire hoped that he would simply be able to outrun the chasing enemies, he was wrong.